Mirror, Mirror
by ZDrive
Summary: I swear my life was totally normal before I found that mirror. Okay, so I was a clutz and a natural at pissing people off, but that's beside the point! Point is, I may be creative, but getting sucked into a portal to where the world of manga exists? Mind blown! The only bad part…the Millennian Earl is out to get me. And my memory is wiped of everything I know about D.G.M. Ruh-roh.
1. Chapter 1

**Mirror, Mirror**

_**Summary: I swear, my life was totally normal before I found that mirror. Okay, so I was a clutz and a natural at pissing people off, but that's beside the point! Point is, I may be creative and all, but getting sucked into a portal to where the world of manga exists?! Mind blown! The only bad part…the Millennian Earl is out to get me. Ruh-roh.**_

…

…

**Bold: actual author speaking**

_Italics: thinking or writing_

**Wow. I. Hate. Myself. I should be studying for finals, researching for what a salt cell, is, but nooooo, I just had to go and get a freakin' amazing idea from one of my Manga crazy friends. Oh, and more pressure on updates for Miss Lit., Wattpad AND Fanfiction! Aargh, hate myself! Oh, and I don't own D. Gray-Man, 'cause if I did…hehe, Yullen, anyone?**

**P.S. This is short chappy here, my little cheese muffins, prologue is gonna be short! And while I try to make my chapters long, this story is going to have chapters that are a bit short, I'm afraid.**

**That, and Kanda and Allen would have a lot more battle scenes, fighting side by side, with barely any clothing on, Innocence activated, serious expressions, omigod, and I'm drooling. *Slurp***

**By the way, this isn't Yullen, (unfortunately, but only once or twice in my stories, since not even my OCs are worthy of such a hot muffin like Kanda fucking Yuu). KandaXOC, thank you very much.**

_**Thou art unworthy for such a hunk-of-a-man as Kanda Yuu!**_

**Ahem, excuse me for my only-slightly (Tcha, right) delusional writing. OMG, CHAPTER 187 PICTURE SCREAMS YULLEN! EVEN THOUGH I'VE READ ALL D. GRAY-MAN SO FAR I'M RE-READING IT!**

**See? ttotally i-in con-con-troool. "284.;'%&^(*345&*…"**

**I,. n-no own.n-D. GRAY-MAN! *Slurp***

**Swaggin' Out,**

**Z**

**Chapter 1: Instinct Kicking In**

_**Part 1, Fourteenth's Phoenix…**_

"_Phoenix Ra, also known as Nix, was entirely devoted to the Fourteenth, through and through. Her mother had died when she was four, muttering the word 'fourteen' over and over again with a high fever. Her father had been just as crazy a follower, opting to become the Black Knight and blowing up a building with three Finders and four exorcists in it when she was ten. However, being the smarter one of her family, Nix decided it was high time to lure the Fourteenth out of Allen Walker by infiltrating the Black Order._

_It wasn't that hard considering she herself was bonded with innocence, equipment type, mind you._

_Her father had been thrilled, babbling about how proud he was and how she would be the future general of the Fourteenth's army when he came to power. Nix found herself quite happy as well. Becoming the Fourteenth's loyal follower was one thing, but becoming his general was another._

_Anyways, infiltrating the Black Order wouldn't be that hard. They were suckers for new innocence and future warriors, so why not use that little weakness against them. _

_Pushing back her dark red hair, shoulder blade length, perfect curls, Nix narrowed her olive green eyes at the museum. Nestled in a tender cushion of purple velvet would be a diamond the size of an ostrich egg. Perfect for getting the exorcists attention, since she already built up a reputation for herself for the last few months. It was enough mystery and magic to get their eyes on her. They would know her exact location since she deliberately let leak that her next target was the diamond. _

_They thought she would run right into their hands, when it was really the complete opposite."_

_She just wouldn't suspect…_

My fingers stilled on the key board when I heard footsteps.

"Oh, shit," I muttered hastily, pressing my thumb on the off button of the monitor. The footsteps were the ones I grew up with, the ones I learned to cower and hide my whimsical stories from, especially when it came to writing my own version of manga.

Her footsteps were quick, yet light, and they practically screamed, 'If you're hiding something I will find out and rip your pride to shreds and leave you as a melted and shamed puddle on the floor.'

Yeah, my big sister ain't a bundle of sunshine.

I guess it was because she just didn't believe in emotions or love, or something like that. She shoved anything that was fiction or unrealistic away from her, like rainbows and sparkly shit like that. Now in her third year of college, and me ending my eleventh year, she came by more often (much to my secretive horror) and meddled and pestered me until I felt like screaming and throwing a wooden ball in the air and telling her to look up.

Long story short, if anyone tells you to do that with a heavy wooden ball, back pedal. Immediately. Judging from the screams of rage and pain and the blood choking the grass as my sister rolled around like a dying beetle clutching her severely broken nose, my guess is that it really, really, REALLY hurts.

I guess, anyways.

So, with years of practice, experience, tears and the occasional French kissing with the floor, I learned how to make it look like the computer wasn't on and I had not just been writing about D. Gray-Man.

Step 1: Hide. Complete.

My older sister banged the door shut, small dark eyes darting around the room like she thought I had a secret boyfriend huddling in the corners (I wish). Grinning, I pushed back my pale red hair and bounded forward with outstretched arms, beaming, "Sisteeeer!"

Step 2: Distraction. Complete.

Said sibling scowled at me and stepped to the side so I hugged the wall painfully instead.

Hmm. Note to self: Remember, no rainbows, sparkly shit, OR spontaneous hugs. Especially when it comes to the possibility of embracing walls at full force.

New Step 3: Peel self off wall, try NOT to cuss like a sailor, and greet sister POLITELY.

"Hey, Taco," I said, still smiling (Ouch, I think my boobs shrank…back to size A, little, f*****). "I thought you would be here tomorrow."

Translation: You were trying to find out what I was doing by attempting to trick me, huh? Naughty, naughty.

My sister sniffed and brushed her long locks of darker red (And much more pretty *grumble, grumble*) hair from her dark eyes. "I decided to come earlier, since my boyfriend had already left to see his own family for the Christmas holidays." She paused to glare at me. "And my name is Takako, meaning 'filial piety' and 'child'. Not. Taco."

Translation: Yes, I was trying to trick you but I'm not admitting it, instead, I'm giving you this half-assed excuse.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever you want, Taco," I said dismissively. "And I didn't know you had a boyfriend?"

Translation: Your name sounds stupid, I'll call you how I like, Taco. And what boyfriend? Either you paid him or he's an angel.

Takako snapped, "I definitely won' let him meet you, you little non-scientific monstrosity!"

Seriously? Did she just say that? Seems like the translations are off, then.

"I've been called a lot of things," I drawled with mild interest. "But only you can pull off the most interesting lame names in the history of lame names."

"I doubt there's a lame name list out there."

I shrugged. "Maybe. But all you have to do is look up most ridiculous/strange names, and you'll probably find most of them from the celebs babies. Like Blue Blanket! I'd murder myself before I'd be named after an inanimate object! I bet your name is there, too. Or, if you think lame names are the ones that are just plain boring, the most common ones are the names people name their pet rocks; Bill, Bob, Billy-Bob…the list goes on."

Takako sighed and swept past me gracefully (how are we related? I wanna be a swan, too!), heading downstairs for dinner. "Hurry up, Kasumi," she droned. "And don't even think about slipping your vegetables to *Aya. That sweet dog has done nothing but eat those, and it's high time for you to grow up."

Then she left me, standing in the hall, my middle finger tingling, brown eyes boring intimidating holes into the back of her head (or at least, that's what I deluded myself into thinking). Besides…I liked my vegetables now. Just because I slipped Aya that carrot one time…or twice, I forget…

I sighed and walked back into my room, feeling more comfortable with the darkness. Being super gothic took a lot out of a girl, I must say, but it was worth it. The makeup was just too awesome to pass up. And though I had a few freckles splashed across the bridge of my small, sharp nose, they looked attractive with my eyeliner and mascara put to perfection. To be perfectly honest, I liked who I was, liked how I dressed, liked myself. (Except the clumsiness and the part where my name is Japanese and means 'mist'.)

But I didn't love myself, and I didn't believe people who said you can't love anyone else without loving yourself, which I though was utter bullshit, because I loved my family and my one friend, Angelina (who was not gothic and lonely, mind you).

Plus, words can still hurt. Especially when it comes from a certain sister of mine who continued to put my unrealistic ideas down.

Stifling another sigh, I glanced at the mirror, feeling satisfied my makeup, long light red, straight hair, and normal baggy grey camouflage pants, black T-Shirt, and black chocker were spot free and presentable. I then turned back to the computer, saved my story, double checked I saved Fourteenth's Phoenix, and 'Xed' out. I opened a window to the internet and took a quick peek at the local news today. Knowing my sister, she would either launch into a topic about chemistry (which I totally suck at, thank you very much) or I could desperately shift it so I don't sound stupid and talk about the news.

Safest thing on earth to do at the dinner table with my family, trust me.

Car crash, car crash, summer storm rolling in, some kid crawling into a vendor machine and eating the candy non-stop (how do parents not notice this?!), politics, blah, blah, blah…

…mysterious death. Spontaneous combustion? Nothing left but jewelry, clothes, accessories, shoes, and ash, huh? Well. That's a bit…suspicious.

I plopped down in my chair, forgetting all about dinner as I searched further. People were blogging, tweeting, and posting like crazy. One random guy I followed on Twitter was saying something about aliens coming to drain our blood and burn our bodies for fuel (I quickly un-followed him), and another girl spoke up about how the remains were indeed the body of the victim.

My gut clenched, and I knew that feeling well as something stirred in my mind uneasily. I first felt it when I was eight. I had gone racing to the nearby park alone with money clutched in one hand to buy ice cream from the ice cream truck. I felt the nervous, almost animalistic quiver in my belly when the man inside the ruck sweetly told me to get in and I could have all the ice cream I wanted. I nearly choked on my tongue when he reached for me in a motion too jerky, eyes glinting with a strange, hungry light I would never forget, as I refused and threw my ice cream at him, screaming. I managed to get away, but I never forgot. Never stopped regretting to tell an adult what had happened. What other little girl, kind and innocent and unassuming, had he grabbed successfully when she had no instinct?

Learning this, I honed down on the instinct, that feeling, committing it to memory so I would never forget, and maybe never have regrets. I was lucky that day, and I wanted to be lucky for the rest of my life.

And now, sitting stone still, licking my now parched lips, my gut coiling sourly, I knew something was wrong. Something unnatural. My instincts were kicking in, and I shut down the computer, shooting a look at the sky as I tried in vain to convince myself that this crazy thing happened for a scientific reason, like my sister would say if I brought it up at the dinner table.

But by heart, and mind, and soul, I was a creative person to the very core of the marrow in my bones. Even my eyes saw the world differently from those of the analytical, logical eyes of my sister and her fellow peers. And everything screamed that this was no occurrence of nature or chemicals. It was something different entirely, I realized as I left my room to walk in a bit of a daze to the dining room.

_Something…doesn't feel right here…_

_Can you feel it? That shift in the air?_

_It's right there in front of your eyes, the answer is on the tip of your tongue…but…_

_What? What is it?_

_I…_

_I don't know._

I didn't say a word about the incident at the dinner table.

**(1):*AYA- Japanese name, female, for "color" or "design"**


	2. Chapter 2

**Mirror, Mirror**

_**Summary: I swear, my life was totally normal before I found that mirror. Okay, so I was a clutz and a natural at pissing people off, but that's beside the point! Point is, I may be creative and all, but getting sucked into a portal to where the world of manga exists?! Mind blown! The only bad part…the Millennian Earl is out to get me. Ruh-roh.**_

…

…

**Bold: actual author speaking**

_Italics: thinking or writing_

**Kasumi: Main character, light red hair, gothic, creative, energetic, great instincts, likes to make mental lists, neat freak**

**Takako: Older sister of Kasumi, bossy, nosy, analytical and logical person, way more serious, messy**

**I don't own D. Gray-Man, 'cause if I did…hehe, Yullen, anyone?**

**I,. n-no own.n-D. GRAY-MAN! *Slurp*Or Tiptoe, by Imagine Dragons, which I am currently playing right now as I write for all my lovelies.**

**Swaggin' Out,**

**Z**

**Chapter 2: Discovery**

I like to make mental lists, to be perfectly honest.

I guess it just gives me a sense of security and organization (even though I have awful OCD when it comes to cleaning and perfection), though it always surprises people who know me on a basic level, because I am just that lazy. Lazy, but neat and orderly. Huh. Weird, right?

So I'm sure it's completely understandable when my big sissy, being the total slob she is, starts throwing around clothes that reek of her perfume, Orange Beach N0. 2, and makes me twitchy which equals a very pissy Kasumi.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the fruity perfume as I turned up the volume for Tiptoe by Imagine Dragons.

_They don't see me come,_

_Who can blame them?_

_They never seem to catch my eye,_

_But I never wonder why_

Focus. Ignore all the messy clothes in disarray all over the floor...breath in, breath out...peace...ignore it.

_I won't fall asleep,_

_I won't fall asleep_

Fo-cus. Ig-nore!

_Hey yeah, don't let 'em know we're coming,_

_Hey yeah, tiptoe higher,_

_Take some time to... simmer down,_

_Keep your head down low,_

_Hey yeah, tiptoe higher_

Flop. I vaguely heard the soft thump of more clothing fall to the floor in front of my feet, and I lost it. Time seemed to slow as I ripped out my headphones and lunged, roaring to my sister as she looked for her sweater. I saw her eyes widen as I tackled her to the floor, football style. Unfortunately, I forgot my sister could fight back.

"Hiyah!" She cried in a pathetic attempt to imitate Jackie Chan as she 'karate chopped' my spine. I rolled off her, huffing and puffing, positive my ears were scarlet. I jumped to my feet, keeping my eyes off the clothes strewn- _un-neatly, horribly!-_ across the floor. The corner of one said eye twitched.

"Pick it up," I said slowly, pointing at a skirt and scarf at my feet. Taco's own eyes narrowed into slits, and it was like a staring show down, sister style.

"No," she replied, just as slow and dangerous.

Oh, fuck no.

"THEN MEET YOUR DOOM, TACO!" I shrieked, lunging for her. Taco deadpanned and ducked as I sailed over her and crashed face first into the old lamp.

_Note to self: Go for the waist and/or make sure nothing is behind her. And forget the battle cry. Silent approach equals better results._

"Oww," I groaned, head throbbing as I fell back on my butt and rubbed the blossoming bruise on my forehead. I heard Taco snicker and opened one dark brown eye to glower at her, wincing as I probed the tender spot.

"Shit that hurt," I muttered, clambering to my feet. I stepped over her flowery orange blouse, refusing to look at the- _Nagging! Awful! Unacceptable!- _mess and proceeded to walk out of her old bedroom, which had the only reachable charger for my phone and had been transformed into my own little relaxation/arcade room. I walked/tripped downstairs, tripped on the perfectly even floor I the living room (what can I say, it takes skill to trip over flat surfaces), and proceeded into the kitchen, nearly bumping into the counter in my haste to the fridge.

Mumbling curses in Japanese (seriously, I'm an American with red hair! What is it with my American parents and their strange fetish for weird and embarrassing Japanese names people can't say or spell half the time?), I opened the fridge door and wiggled out an icepack from the freezer. I hissed when it came into contact with the bruise.

"Kas, are you okay?" my mom asked, her voice floating from the open doorway to my parent's room, sounding, as usual, very bright and cheerful. Like she was about to enthusiastically offer to cook dinner (say NO). Or about to whip out her canvas and make the most beautiful, yet unexpected art that seemed to just come to her, like a dream. Honestly, I was lucky to have her amazing art skills, the only thing I inherited from her that was actually _good. _And then I inherited her clumsiness, which was _not good. _

"Mom, you know I don't like nick names," I said, walking out of the kitchen and meeting the brown eyed gaze of my tall and slim, brunette mother, Eve.

Seriously...her name was _Eve. _So why the heck did she name me in Japanese? Unbelievable.

"I, I think your bruise looks like a flower of purple beauty blossoming on different shades of white snow." Eve admitted. I rolled my eyes and adjusted the icepack to further conceal my bruise.

"Why am I not surprised," I breathed. Then, louder, "More like a flower of purple pain." I stabbed my thumb upstairs. "If you want one of your own, just try to tackle Taco. Oh, and make sure the lamp is behind her when she ducks. it works wonders, really, it does."

"Can I paint it," she asked dreamily, like she heard absolutely nothing. Artists. Fucking insane. And totally not realizing I had named her eldest daughter a name coming from her horrible Japanese name.

_Ha._

_Thank God my name isn't as embarrassing..._

I sighed. "Sure, mom," I said, removing the icepack reluctantly.

Mother smiled in delight and grabbed my wrist, dragging me to the back bedroom where her art studio was, with large glass windows, floor-to-ceiling. I always thought it was the coolest room in our two story house. Very spacious and peaceful, as well as inspiring when it gave you a view to our gigantic backyard. When it rained and raged and stormed, it was beautiful, some of the wonders of mother nature, and I would always stand half-way in the room, not close enough to the windows where if the weather got too out of control it would injure me, but close enough to stand and stare in awe at the sheer power and beauty. It was so beautiful, something the hands of man could not create or copy, but simply observe and paint it on blank canvas or write about, and even then we could not catch the sheer power it had. That was what made it so amazing.

I took a deep breath of the comforting scent of pain and charcoal and paper as I sat on a wooden stool in front of my mother's canvas, adjusting my black sweater and smoothing my white T-shirt. Excited, my mom scooted closer to me, and whipped out her paints, carefully selecting a cobalt blue, white, and dull, yet dark purple. She then selected a small canvas and set it on the easel, and began to work her magic.

It wasn't long before becoming perfectly still, mind wiped blank, was what I was after the first half-an hour. When someone was painting me, it was suddenly easy to forget everything and relish this peaceful moment. This was the only time I would ever sit still and stay calm. I closed my eyes briefly and took a breath, then opened them to gaze at my mother as she worked with such concentration. Her job was a landscaper, but her side job was an artists, which earned her enough money to help pay the bills. My father, Bobby (yes, I know, Eve and Bobby. Ironic, right?), was an editor, who was very logical and analytical, much like my sister, which could be a frustrating roadblock when it came to family sit downs. However, it was also interesting when we talked about religion, politics, and science, because we could show our own ideas to each other and see from other angles and points of views. It was...refreshing, so to speak. Besides, as a wise Greek philosopher once said, it takes an educated mind to entertain an idea, even if they won't agree with it.

Yeah, I like to collect poetry, manga, and famous quotes. Sue me.

Speaking of manga...

My mind wondered to the thought of skipping dinner tonight to finish the first chapter of my new fanfic. I was already thinking of how, with subtle hints, would slowly change over the course of time she spent with the exorcists, and how many laughs and memories she would have...

_It...I...it's killing me!_

My eyebrow twitched.

What the-?!

_For them._

Stop. Stop it.

_For them...for them, for them for them for them for themforthemforthemfo-_

I opened my eyes and struggled to breath, but my eyesight was blurry. My stomach flip flopped and my heart sped up, pumping suddenly and erratically.

What the fuck?!

_For them. I will die for them._

Them?

**_For him._**

Him...

I took a stuttering breath and coughed, doubling over at the waist and nearly keeling over to the floor. My head was light, and my vision doubled and blurred, as if it were a microscope trying to be adjusted. I vaguely heard my mom's concerned, sweet voice in the air, but waved her off, hacking.

"I'm fine," I rasped, rubbing my watery eyes, nose stinging. Was I...was I crying...?

"Oh, uh," I mumbled, pulling back my hand to stare blearily at the dark smudges from my eye makeup and avoiding my mom's eyes. "I, I just kind of...um, choked on my spit." I offered her a half-hearted, sheepish smile and stood, rushing out as I said something about going to the restroom.

I went to the hall bathroom and slammed the door shut harder than necessary, locking it quickly. There, I focused on steadying my breath and studied myself in the mirror for a moment. The girl staring back didn't seem to be...well, _me_. I had always found my appearance neat, orderly, and touched up to perfection. But now, my makeup was smeared around my eyes like someone punched me, and my brown eyes were a little scared, a little wild, and wet, like they saw something horrible and knew it but forgot what it looked like...

Damn! I don't _cry_!

I sucked in a quick, harsh breath, splashing water on my face and then taking out the makeup from the cupboard. Carefully, I applied the liquid, black eyeliner, but switched to the pencil when it came to carefully smudging it at the corners and a bit at the bottom. I set them back in their previous places and tuned to the tube of mascara, studying it critically for a moment before leaning in and sweeping my lashes in long, unhurried strokes. I sighed when I was done, cleaned up, blotted at the last tear stains on my cheeks, and left the bathroom.

When I entered the art room, my mother was nowhere to be found, so I wandered in a daze to the kitchen. The tiny radio was sitting on the counter, turned down low so the music from country rock star, Luke Bryan, crooned through the speakers. I plopped down on the stool beside it and closed my eyes, laying my chin on my forearms, as I rewound the past events.

I had been having migraines for the past few days, steadily growing worse and more resistant to the painkillers I swallowed down. Getting random flashes, finding my stomach churning at the thought of the manga D. Gray-Man to the point I couldn't even look at my untouched stories and the poster of Kanda and Allen on the wall above my bed. That, and not to mention is started barely a day after the disturbing news I found on line when my sister came to spend the second month of summer with us. I just wanted everything to go back to normal; drooling over Kanda and Allen pairings, reading the latest updates on Fanfiction, finishing my stories, cursing the people who made amazing stories but haven't finished or updated them in years, humoring my mother's weirdness, debating with Dad, teasing my sister's name, and listening to the bands 'Passion Pit' and 'Fun.'

But the churning, sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach wasn't to be ignored- refused to be ignored- and I knew that nothing would turn back to being normal.

Not soon. And not ever.

Maybe I was overreacting, I tried to rationalize, hearing my mother and Taco's voices traveling slowly downstairs, probably to make lunch. It could all be a coincidence. That, or I was simply going crazy at the wrong time.

Sighing, I tried to banish it from my mind, making a move to get off the stool when the song 'Shake It For Me' ended and the deep, strong voice of the DJ rang from the speakers.

"There seems to have been another strange and unexplained death on the suburbs," he announced cheerfully, like he just found out that Starbucks gave him drinks for free. "Three victims- two male, one female- were reduced to ashes from what appears to be spontaneous combustion. The ashes have been collected by the police and the only thing they have said so far is that they are unsure of the cause, but it was likely it was an accident, and spontaneous combustion. However, one of the males was standing next to the female, and the other male was of a homeless man near a bus stop. How are these connected? Are the investigators holding back on us? Maybe so. What have you heard so far, Angie?" He suddenly asked, as if the ice coating my stomach didn't exist.

I leaned forward and turned up the tiny radio with shaking fingers, as the soprano voice of Angie spoke, saying, "So far, Sam, I've heard the same reports, but there was also a case of spontaneous combustion similar to the other's deaths. How is this happening? Do you think it could be a product from foreign companies?"

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Of course...that was their first guess. Not from here, right? Ha! It could have, just as easily.

"Maybe, maybe not," Sam admitted, still sounding like he was grinning widely. "We'll get more details later. But anyways, back to the weather-"

I shut the radio off and huffed through my nose, swiveling on my stool and practically sprinting past my startled mother and sneering older sister, as I headed to my room. I didn't get far because my mother trilled after me, "Honey, come down for lunch! Oh, and I forgot to mention, I'll be going on a business trip with your father to Morocco, so you and Takako will be with my cousin Leah and her husband Gregory in Italy! By next week on Sunday! Just sayiiiiiing!"

I froze, turned slowly, and stared wide eyed.

"The fuck?!"


End file.
